Hit and Run
by The Unbridled Maiden
Summary: In an unforeseen turn of events Bulma is deprived of her memory and left without any recollection of her beloved prince. With nothing to lose, how will Vegeta reignite the eternal flame of love between them and simultaneously banish the internal demons that may prohibit him from doing so?
1. Guess You're Leaving This Time

It started as every other normal day.

Morning began with the infernal sound of the alarm buzzing in her eardrum as the early sun reaches over the horizon of the city, shooting its rays of orange life across the land and into her window. She turns over, squints from the sudden burst of light and glances hazily at the blurred red lines that barely make out the number five thirty in her vision. Yawning, she slips on her house shoes that she has placed at the edge of her bed and scoots downstairs into the kitchen that is alive with the smell of coffee from an automated dispenser. All the while, her two princes are fast asleep and her only companions are the television and birds who join her in the early morning. Traffic outside on the freeway is slow at this time of morning. Usually being the time when school is starting and work places are just beginning to open up, she sits at the island counter, observing the quietness of morning until three heavy thuds signify the awakening of her husband.

He pranced down in a way, arms stretched high above his head and eyes closed as he made the last three steps from stairway to kitchen, grabbing the first thing he sees without even saying a word to her. She ignores him as well, head in palm and eyes set forward in a straight, dull line. The sparks were at a standstill for the time being. They had been through their years of wild, spontaneous lovemaking with a side order of precious thoughts and actions, all of which had lead up to Trunks and that was it. Their relationship subsides in routine now.

And she was happy with that surprisingly enough.

Bacon sizzled in a pan as Vegeta ravaged the orange he mindlessly plucked from the counter and three beeps from the microwave signified the end of French toast. Traffic was picking up on the highway now, its low humming of cars filling the city air the day began and school buses rounded up the children. Bulma, with red robe and disheveled hair, began to pack Trunks his lunch and snack inside his lunchbox that was humorously decorated with a random assortment of stickers and dinosaurs.

It was now six o'clock in the morning, thirty minutes away from the event.

Ignorant to everything that was to come, she awoke her son from his deep sleep, pursuing their fight they had every morning and eventually flicking on the light and pulling the blankets from him to expose him to the cold air. Cranky, Trunks left his bed and began to tug on his green jacket and purple shorts while his mother fought with the frock of morning hair he wore upon his sleeping head. He spat back, growling and reshaping it the way he liked it. By now Bulma refused to fight with him, and allowed, just as she did every morning, for him to wear and do as he wished to avoid argument. Stifling her urge to adjust her son's hair as she walked behind him, Bulma began to notice the time of six fifteen, and scorned him to hurry and eat only worried of her sons hunger.

What she hadn't realized was that in fifteen minutes, her life would never be the same.

In fifteen minutes everything would clash and turn upside down in a whirlwind of dramatic events that leave her helpless among growing mountains that she would force her family to overcome.

In fifteen minutes she would no longer be Bulma Briefs: Brilliant scientist and adventurer.

She served her son breakfast just as she had done countless times before hand, and her husband, who was yet to even say good morning to her, was doing pushups in the living room with an arm behind his back. Normally she would admire him, but as of late they had been arguing over every little detail in their lives. For now, she had nothing to say to him in fear that some sort of fight would break out, but that was to be the least of her worries soon. With breakfast finished, school bag packed and ready to go, hair combed, teeth brushed, it was time for Trunks to be off. Goten was awaiting him outside as he usually was and as they began to set out, Bulma noticed a very important piece of Trunks' day sitting on the counter: His lunch.

It was now six twenty nine.

Grabbing the small metal box without hesitation, Bulma darted out of the door, calling for her son as she did so and waving his lunch around in her hand. She left the comfort of her driveway to pursue her child who was on the other side of the rode, the morning dew chilling her skin and the sweet smell penetrating her nostrils and momentarily distracting her as she blindly ran into the road that had been empty not seconds ago.

A moment was all that was needed to flip her life upside down.

A second was all it took for such a forceful impact to break her spine, her arms and leg, and her poor hips as she rolled over the windshield of a black pickup, cracking the glass and her skull as she tumbled. She barely made out the audible noises around her as she finally hit the ground again, blood leaking from her nose and mouth onto the cold hard asphalt. Her limbs waddled and collapsed upon her, leaving her helpless as the driver of the pickup backed up and squealed their tires as they sped away, not even taking the time to call an ambulance or tend to the scene. Her vision turned gray and blurry as the pain rippled through her body, her tongue moving to speak but no words dancing out of her mouth. She laid, still and growing cold, to helpless to do anything as her child cried for her and her husband called for her.

"Bulma," she heard him say countless times. "Bulma…. Bulma…. Dammit Bulma, please….. Please…. Don't leave us."

Then Black. She heard nothing. She felt nothing.

She only saw her world go black.


	2. I Heard Your Suitcase Say Goodbye

_Seven months later._

The atmosphere was dreary and cold, giving the feeling of death as dim lighting flickered from the storm that ravaged the outside world in a typhoon of wind and rain. Lightening cracked, setting everyone on edge except he who sat hunched over in his chair, leg shaking and eyes focused upon the white tile floor. Bulma would be back from her fifth surgery soon, and though she had been in a comatose state for seven months now, Vegeta couldn't shake the feeling that she was still there. Maybe in spirit, he told himself. She had been hospitalized since the accident and her missing presence in the house was unsettling, especially for young Trunks whose birthday was soon. He would have to have one without his mother there unless today's operation was a success as he and the doctor hoped. It took this happening to make him realize that he truly missed her and loved her, the prince thought as he leaned back in his seat with his foot wiggling nervously about in front of him. He scoffed at it. Nervousness was never his strong suit but as he sat there waiting for those double doors to come barreling open, he found that it was harder to fight off than he thought. She was his world, his reason to protect Earth. Without her he doubted if he could stay on this homely little planet. He had never felt for anyone as he ever had for her, and as he stared ahead at the eggshell white walls, he realized what that actually meant.

She was everything to him.

"Briefs family," called the doctor in a tired manner, his eyes dark underneath and tired hands clipped around an assorted papers. When Vegeta confronted him, he handed them to him with ease and began to address Bulma's condition. "I have good news and bad news," he started as he bade Vegeta to walk with him.

"What's the good?"

"Good news is that she will make a full recovery and is showing signs of coming out of her coma soon. Her bones are mending well, no internal bleeding, you know the works," said the doctor as he thumbed through his documents while simultaneously maneuvering through the hospital atmosphere. "The neurologist said that he was able to save most of her motor skills such as ability to eat and speak and walk and with a few months of physical therapy she should be able to say goodbye to the hospital forever, hopefully."

Vegeta wrinkled his nose, "Then what's the bad news?"

The doctor sighed and put his hand on Vegeta's shoulder as he lead him into the room Bulma would be in when she arrived from surgery within the next few minutes.

"She won't remember much if anything, and he isn't sure if she ever will. It's a, uhh… a hit and run sort of scenario with brain injury patients. She may never remember anything about her previous life or she could spontaneously remember everything in as little as one hour or as much as ten years," he explained while looking Vegeta in his cold black eyes and holding his ground very strongly, "You see the synapses in the human brain act as a sort of conduit for electrical nodes that activate certain parts of the brain. In many cases like this it is the motor skills and ability to compute certain calculations that are harmed, but in Bulma's case it is the segment of her brain that controls memories."

Vegeta shook his head, choking back the rage and hurt that was building up in his throat, "So you are telling me that when she wakes up she will have no clue at all who I am? Who our son is? Or even her mother and father?"

"I'm afraid not," said the doctor who was running out of things to say by now. "You'll have to coax her back into routine."

Vegeta let out a frustrated growl, but held back all that he wanted to say as a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. A red headed nurse peaked in, her golden eyes surveying the room briefly before she motioned for whomever was following her to come in. She led the stretcher into the room, assuring that they did not jar a sleeping Bulma whose head was nearly bald and wrapped in bandages from her surgery. Beside her, an additional nurse was carrying her IV and assorted the wires into position as they all prepared to lift her onto the hospital bed. Vegeta stood back in the corner as they did so, observing the red head as if he knew her, but couldn't place her name. In a way he didn't want to look at Bulma, to see her scared body and know that this woman may never remember his name, depressed him. So solemnly, he looked out the window, envying how life seemed so bright for everyone else around except him now.

"Sign here, please," said the red headed nurse as she handed him her clipboard. In doing so, he intended to ask her for her name seeing as she had no tag, but before he could do so, she snatched the clipboard away and vacated the room before had the chance.

He grunted, "What's her problem."

The doctor only shrugged, "Who knows," he then turned to Bulma who had made such a subtle noise, and smiled, "She's finally waking up. The neurologist said she would," he grinned as he took ahold of his flashlight and shined it in one of her eyes that was slowly peaking open. "We have dilation!" He gleamed. Vegeta quickly joined him by her side, grabbing hold her hand as she slowly began to awaken.

"Bulma?" He asked gently, "Wake up," he coaxed.

She did so, but slowly as the world around her blinded her eyes that had been closed for nearly eight months. Her body was numb, shapes were but gray blobs around her until her eyes finally adjusted to communicate with her sore brain. Her fingers twitched in Vegeta's hand, and as she realized she was being touched, she jerked them out in a panic. The doctor was correct when he said her memory had been wiped clean.

"Where am I?" She nearly screamed, her heart and oxygen rate sky rocketing as she leapt up, but was quickly forced back down. "Who are you people?" She panicked. Thinking quickly, the doctor drew out a syringe filled with calming medicine and pricked it into her arm. Immediately, Bulma quieted, feeling the relaxing sensation flutter through her veins.

"You had an accident, Bulma. You're in the hospital. I'm Doctor Hiro, and this is Vegeta," he started gently as to not get her adrenaline flowing again and he instructed Vegeta to do the same.

"Bulma?" She whispered in question.

"Yes, that is your name," Doctor Hiro started, then leaned into Vegeta's ear. "Be careful of what you say to her. Getting her frightened could accelerate her heart rate and send more blood to her brain than she can handle."

Vegeta nodded, "Bulma Briefs are you feeling alright?" He choked back the 'I love you' he wanted to say for he was paying head to the doctors words.

"My head hurts," she mumbled in pain, her fingers pricking at the bandages on her near bald head.

"You just got out of surgery. Don't pick at those," said Doctor Hiro. Vegeta restrained her hands and placed them down at her side instinctively. Bulma reacted furiously.

"Who are you and why do you keep touching me!" She screamed, then wrapped her hands back over her head.

"Dammit woman I am your…" he started, then heeded the doctor's words again, "I'm a friend," he said finally despite the fact that the lie felt like sweltering venom on the tip of his tongue. If he didn't care so much for Bulma he would have let his temper fly. She was indeed a lucky woman.

"Go away," she mumbled with a groggy overtone as she rolled back over on her side away from him.

Her words stung his heart, but just as he was about to react, the doctor pulled him to the side as if he felt his pain, "She is going to be little cranky for a while," he explained as they both watched Bulma fall asleep despite her seven month coma. "The morphine is probably having a strong effect on her, so why don't you go get some sleep or a bite to eat. It is almost three why not go pick up your son from school and tell him the news."

Vegeta grew angry, "You want me to leave her? Seven months I've waited for my wife to awaken and you want me to leave?" He half snarled, half whispered.

Doctor Hiro held up his hand, "You won't be able to do much here. She'll probably sleep for another six or so hours depending on how much they gave her."

Vegeta bit his lip then, and glanced over to his sleeping wife as she escaped her hellish reality for dreamland once again. It broke his heart to look at her in such a pitiful state, but the proud prince wouldn't let it show. He couldn't. Pity overwhelmed him, and as he walked to her bedside and stroked her hair while she slept, he felt a rogue tear drip down his face. It was quickly followed by others that he clenched his teeth at and felt his muscles become tenses and shaky. This woman that he devoted his life to could no longer even remember who he was and he couldn't handle that, but he had too. He had to hold in for her, he realized as he wiped away a few strands away from her perfect face. There was still hope for them, he knew, and even though he never realized that he, the prince of all saiyans, would be fighting a battle as this, he felt as if it were the hardest one he had ever fought.

But he would fight until the end for her.

"Let me know if anything happens," he told Doctor Hiro as he began to take his leave. Before he walked out of the door though, he turned back to his wife and despite the fact that she could not hear him he said, "Goodbye Bulma, I love you."

The storm raged outside, beating the roof of his car with its relentless bouts of rain and hail as he awaited his son. It was just short of three when he made it to the school, and just as he had wondered the entire way there, he pondered now of what he would say to Trunks when he joined him. It wasn't exactly easy contemplating himself that his wife, who had thankfully survived the accident, would never remember who he nor their five year old son was. Vegeta was never one for words in the first place, but as far as he knew words were the only way to deal with the situation on hand. So he sat there, bumper to bumper with parents who were ready to assume their routine, wondering and stressing over the talk he was going to have to have when Trunks stepped into the car. No doubt there would be crying, and he grimaced at the thought, but he could not dismiss the probability of his son being upset over his mother. He etched up a bit in line, the dread coursing through him as he spotted Trunks waiting in line underneath the protection of the walkway rooftop. Now third in line, Vegeta began to prepare his speech and himself with knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.

"Hi Dad," greeted Trunks as he threw his backpack into the floorboard.

Vegeta took a deep breath as they departed from the school yard, "I went and saw your mother today," he started, his voice growing husky at the thought. "She….," he breathed as he chewed on his next words, "She woke up."

Trunks grew excited as he always had when he mentioned his visits to the hospital, but this time nothing could stop his elation as his father brought him the good part of their talk. "Does that mean she gets to come home now?" Asked young Trunks with a grand smile and tears of joy welling in his eyes. Vegeta could not bring himself to look at his son.

"Almost," he started, then relaxed as his muscles tensed. "Trunks, you remember she took a hit to the head. She isn't going to be the same," he told him with great caution.

Trunks' smile faded bit, "She's still gonna be my mom thought….right?"

Vegeta wrinkled his nose. He was done beating around the bush, "She doesn't remember anything. Not me, not you, nothing. We'll have to make her remember us, slowly."

Tears began to form in his young eyes, and just as Vegeta was getting ready to get an earful of loud, obnoxious crying, Trunks lowered his head and sat straight forward in the seat of the car, his head down with only slight sniffling coming from him. Vegeta raised a curious eye to him, almost intending to ask him why he did not wail like a banshee, but stopped himself. He assumed that it was Trunks finally assuming his more adult like, and saiyan side. Though when he was a child he would not dare even do what Trunks is trying now. These were special circumstances though, and for some reason he was allowing it. He placed one hand on Trunks' head and ruffled his hair as his little tears fell onto the leather seats of the car. The boy was being strong he knew. He witnessed himself just how hard it was to hold back such feelings for one such as her.

"I'm happy she's alive," he finally muffled out when they reached home.

Vegeta threw the car in park but didn't turn it off just yet, "I am too," he agreed with eyes stuck to the floor board. Afterwards, a weak smile spread on his face, "We'll go and see her tomorrow. Why don't you make a get well soon card for her, or whatever else these earthlings do?"

Trunks smiled, "Ok," he said, then popped out of the car and dashed inside to escape the rain.

Vegeta took a bit more time on his way inside, uncaring that the rain poured upon him. Everything he looked at reminded him of Bulma now, the kitchen, the living room, a random plant that had for so long just been a part of the background. Anything he looked at held the essence of her in. He would open the door and there she would be, the ghost of her former self partaking in her daily activities. The past would haunt him now, he knew and unless he was lucky enough for her to spontaneously remember everything, it would be for a very, very long time. He sighed and waddled into the house, his rain drenched clothes soaking the floor. For the most part, he kept his eyes to the floor, not acknowledging anything or anyone as he wondered throughout the kitchen for something to eat. Without much of an appetite, he walked away with a banana and a glass of milk in his hand.

He couldn't keep his mind off of Bulma. How she looked. How she acted. It wasn't his Bulma.

Vegeta sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been fighting this battle for too long. He was weary and sick of it, but it wouldn't go away. He couldn't turn back time as much as he wanted to.

"Oh but what would be the use," he growled to himself. He didn't' appreciate her enough in the past. Only now, when she couldn't remember if he were her husband or just another face in the crowd, did he realize that he missed her.

He wished he had paid more attention. He wished he had stopped that truck.

He wished, he wished, he wished.

Wishes couldn't change what happened.

He had the dragon balls and means to locate them though, but not a year had passed since their last use and they were still just a pile of stone. Vegeta ran his hand down his face as he stared into the gray, crying sky with empty thought. Not one time in his previous life did he ever think that this would ever happen to him. That these emotions that he is feeling would ever penetrate his mind to the point of unrest. He never even contemplated that could care for a woman like he cares for her. It was so unnatural, a true enigma. Out of the corner or his eye, he spotted their wedding picture and picked it up. It felt so light in his hands, but in his heart he felt such a heavy burden. He smoothed his thumb over her face, closing his eyes and pretending as if it were her real skin as he did so. Oh how he missed that feeling.

It was still there though, he reassured himself again. He would have to teach her to love him again, and just as assumingly as she fell for him the first time she must again. Or so he hoped. All the circumstances of the first time she fell in love with him were completely different now. Now, she was the renegade in a way- the free spirit that had to be coaxed into a natural relationship. He had a feeling that this was going to be a lot harder than he thought. For the first time in a long time, _he would have _to be the subtle romantic. _He _would have to accommodate her in every way she wanted. As if he could do that before. Vegeta growled again, and reflected on the past Bulma, who by all means was an enigma beforehand.

God knows how she was going to be now.

AN: Well that's chapter two for you! Sleek, subtle, and hopefully thrilling enough at the same time.

If you have been looking for BrolyxOc romances, then I implore you to check out my profile and read my re-edited story Freedom and leave a review!

-Maiden


	3. As My Broken Heart Lies Bleeding

Morning arose with him sitting in the kitchen, his eyes bloodshot and watery from another sleepless night. Things and people before him were but blobs of colored motion that moved about slowly, and even the coffee in his hand seemed as if it had subtle movements. Delirious Vegeta, who should have been accustomed to the feeling of drowsiness, felt as if his head had been lopped off his shoulders from all the weight he had carried upon his shoulders now and had fallen into his mug, thus explaining the movement. He didn't realize that it was his own shaking fist that was causing the liquid to tremble. His breath was shallow, and even has he yawned it felt almost nonexistent. He didn't want this anymore: The sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, the way his pride hurt him every time he thought of it. All of it had to end. Slamming his mug onto the island counter shattered the glass into miniscule fragments and shards that went flying across most of the kitchen and jarred the ghostly residents of the Briefs house, including young Trunks. He hadn't a care though, and as he fought the urge to yell, he grabbed his keys and barreled through the front door and slamming it hard enough to take it off its hinges. Trunks, who was to join him in the car, stood weary at first, then as he stared down at the card that he had drawn for his mother, felt some courage return to him. It wasn't much more than two stick figures drawn upon a piece of printer paper with his name on it and a get well soon sloppily drawn on the front, but somewhere inside of him he hoped that it would help this woman turn from Bulma Briefs and back into the mother he so dearly missed.

"Dad," he asked cautiously as they pulled out of the driveway, the humid, morning air creating a fog around their car. Vegeta stayed silent. "Dad? When are you going to start training me again?" Asked the innocent, distracted Trunks.

Vegeta's eyes widened as he finally realized that for the last year almost he barely even trained himself, let alone his son who was well age enough to know how to fight. He shook his head, his fingers loosening around the steering wheel as he tried to relax and give his son an answer. As they halted the red light just before the hospital Bulma was being held at, he found that answer.

All he could muster up to say was, "Soon," even though he wasn't completely sure how true his statement would prove to be.

"How soon?" Trunks persisted, which physically and emotionally detested the statement. His facial expression was all it took to silence the boy.

Vegeta had been so quiet since the accident, almost as if he were internally gone. It was at the very least disturbing and unsettling to his family and those who were just becoming used to his presence in the household. Trunks stared out of the window, watching the blurs of trees and cars pass by at the speed of light in order to distract himself from the internal strife his father was fighting off at the moment. It was so odd to him that life seemed to be going on normally around them- to understand that no one else understood what he had to go through. With his head propped up on his hand that he held against the door frame, he wondered if his life ever would really be the same. Not even Goten came around to play anymore. It was as if the picture of his mother laying on the side walk, bleeding and near dead, was too tragic for him. Trunks frowned. If he hadn't forgotten his lunch that day this would have never happened, he scorned himself as little tears began to well in his eyes.

Then the car stopped abruptly, jarring him and tossing him into the floor board with a hard thud. Vegeta threw the car into park just outside the hospital emergency entrance, something obviously catching his attention. He exited the car, getting hit by a humid blast of summer air as he did so and rounded it before anyone could blink. Trunks leapt up from the floor board and peaked out of the window at the commotion, his hands trembling around the card and making the marker sweat around the word 'mom'. His father was confronting someone out there, he saw, and though he could not here it, he assumed it was not going very well. After a few shoves, and a bit of marker smudged around his nose, he saw that it was his mother, in nothing but a hospital robe, outside wondering around without supervision. This must be what his father went out to help.

"Get away from me, you pervert!" She screamed while she slapped Vegeta's chest again as he restrained her from going any farther in the street. He had almost hit her with the car because she was outside wondering around by herself, and out of shock and rage sought to take her back into the hospital where she could be safe and he could give the nurses an earful for allowing her out of her room.

"Bulma," he growled and picked her up, ignoring the slaps to the face she was giving him along with the chewing out, "Dammit woman you are…" he started before she slapped his mouth, "Dammit you are not safe out there! Nurse!"

A group was there to help him restrain her and as they began to touch her and assure her safety she calmed down. They then presented a wheel chair to her by which she was coaxed into easily. She felt safer in their arms than she did in his, he observed with a somewhat annoyed disposition. Perhaps he came on to her to strongly and scared her, he thought as they wheeled her away in a wheelchair, or perhaps she just found him annoying and unattractive now. Vegeta wrinkled his nose at the unsavory thought, but as he left the hospital's cold atmosphere to park his car, he found that it may not be such a ludicrous thought after all. She did, after all, fall for him after they had come to blows a thousand times before hand and he had been the one to show affection once she had taken care of him and shown him that earthlings were able of instilling such powerful emotions that his saiyan pride couldn't even combat them. Something that never happened with saiyans.

Vegeta groaned inwardly. It was by fate they fell in love and he hoped it would be fate that brought them back together.

"Is everything ok?" Asked Trunks as Vegeta slammed the car door closed.

"Everything's fine," he answered gruffly, even though truly it wasn't in his mind.

"What was Mom doing out here?"

Vegeta wrinkled his nose and threw the car into a parking spot, just missing two pedestrians as he did so. While they yelled at him, he turned to Trunks, "Enough damn questions," he barked. Trunks shrunk back into his seat with shoulders arched and head down.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

In the midst of a Sunday morning the hospital was primarily quiet as nurses from the night shift passed them and yawned, not paying any mind to the scowl Vegeta had planted across his face. He dreaded the onslaught that was to come, as he feared Bulma detested his company now, but as Trunks seemed to bounce with excitement he hoped that maybe it wouldn't be so hard. Though, he feared that they idea of Bulma's amnesia may have not completely sunk in for Trunks. It barely had with him. Whenever he saw her now he almost expected for her to recognize him and come home as if nothing at all had happened and to return to normal as if time had been erased. As they dawned on her room though, another doctor of similar standing outside of it and waiting for them, he doubted anything like that to happen within the near future.

"You must be Vegeta," he asked as he presented his hand for Vegeta to shake. When the prince ignored it, he cleared his throat and continued. "Assuming that you are Bulma's family, I feel it my duty to inform you of something that we just discovered ourselves," he then sighed and flipped through his assortment of papers, coming across pictures of MRIs and an ultrasound. "Seven months ago, she was two months pregnant."

"What?" Vegeta barked, his wide eyes shimmering in disgusting agony. He felt his heart shrink and his stomach turn. How could this get any worse? He pondered, but as he stared into the doctor's narrow, grey eyes, he had a feeling it was about to.

"If we had known at the time of the accident we could have helped her, but being that we did not, the dead fetus set up an infection in her womb that ravaged it and her other reproductive organs," he then stopped, his pressed, thin lipped expression weighing heavy on Vegeta's mind.

"What does that mean?" The prince asked with haste.

The doctor rolled his head around a bit while he chewed on his next sentence, "Well…. There's a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that she will never be able to reproduce again. So be glad that you already conceived a child."

Vegeta gritted his teeth, "Then do you want to tell me what she was doing walking around outside unsupervised if she has this so called _infection _in her womanly parts?" He snarled, setting Trunks and the doctor on edge. Trunks shrunk back to the hospital wall at least a foot away, his card becoming moist and smeared from sweat. The doctor however, held what ground he had left and tried to offer a reasonable explanation.

"I'm actually not sure how she did that. The pain must have been excruciating, but I have her on strong antibiotics and steroids to help her build up muscle and repel any bacteria setting up camp inside of her. She should be healing within the week," he stammered, then moved onto the next part of his talk. "She's ready to see you now."

He wasn't able to say much afterwards for Vegeta had shoved him out of the way and resisted the urge to storm into her room and interrogate her about the pregnancy that she would have remembered nothing of. Instead, he slowly inched the door open, calling her name as he did so and ushering in Trunks who held back all excitement as he had been told to do. Bulma was awake but inattentive, her knees drawn up to her chest and a small bowl of vanilla ice cream sitting on top of them. It was her favorite treat Vegeta remembered, and as he observed her eating and watching some talk show that involved a group of middle aged women gossiping about this and that, things almost felt as if they were completely normal now. He still proceeded with caution, their son behind his leg and eyes stuck to the woman who barely had any of that beautiful blue hair left on her head that was wrapped in bandages and stitches.

"Bulma?" Vegeta asked again, his tread and voice soft.

Bulma then looked in their direction slowly, her head cocked to the side as if she were contemplating something, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Vegeta resisted the urge to frown, "My name is Vegeta, and this is Trunks."

"Hello," the young boy said lowly, then surpassed his father and climbed into bed with his mother, presenting the smeared card and staining her white blanket with an assortment of blues and greens.

"Did you make this for me?" She soothed, feeling the oxytocin bond between mother and child form immediately as she petted his light purple hair. She smiled, feeling an odd sensation of love for this child form as she snuggled him into her breast and took hold of the card and attempted to read the smeared words above two stick figures holding hands that she assumed to be him and her. "It's beautiful," she soothed, then ruffled his hair with her chin. Trunks immediately wrapped his arms around her neck, little tears of joy swarming out of his eyes. She held him as tight as she could, her eyes closed shut, relishing the sweet bond they had reformed.

"This is my son, Trunks," Vegeta interjected, placing his hand on her foot as he said so to test the waters. Luckily, she didn't seem to mind much.

"You have a wonderful son," she answered and swaddled the boy in her arms as if he were a baby. Trunks happily accepted this. "Where is his mother? I'm sure she's a wonderful lady."

Vegeta tensed, "She was…is…" he growled, unable to figure out what to tell her.

"We lost her a long time ago," Trunks told her, his worlds brilliantly dancing around the truth. Vegeta was taken back, but impressed.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," gasped Bulma for she was unaware that she was the woman in question.

"Things haven't quite been the same without her," Vegeta sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tried to stop his heart from breaking in half and bleeding all over the floor. He was a saiyan prince. He wasn't supposed to feel emotions as such, but this woman dared to strike them in his heart. He looked into her eyes, his watery and teary, hers filled with wonder, and he wished he could tell her the truth of what they were saying. Alas, it would be too much for her to handle right now.

"Hey, it'll be alright," she said as she reached out and smoothed her soft hand against his gruff wrist tugging on his sleeve a bit as she did so.

Vegeta resisted the urge to suck in his breath at her touch, "I hope so," he answered, his voice carrying but a soft wisp of horror for what was to come.

_Time fast forward five months. _

Bulma had returned home, only making routine visits to a rehabilitation therapist once every two weeks. Her motor skills, though obviously impaired, are still perfectly functional and her cognitive abilities such as thinking, speaking, and figuring out mathematical equations are slowly coming back to her even more so. She and Trunks formed a close bond as he attempts to play with her and assume a somewhat similar routine to before. Save for her memory, she seems to be returning to normal. Vegeta had stayed reclusive however, fearing that his overbearing personality may push her father away from him and they rarely spoke to each other. Their bedrooms are just down the hall from each other's, his much smaller for he had given her the masters. Not once did he ever visit her or try to enlighten her upon their previous state of being, and laying in that bed only worsened his grief. Being that he couldn't bear to sleep in it anymore anyhow and how she seemed to adore the balcony that overlooked the mountains and city he had no problem handing it over to her. Just as he would so assumingly hand over the world to her now. Vegeta sighed. It pained him to remember those days now. They seemed so much like a distant memory, a ghost in his past, and as he sat cross legged in the middle of his bedroom floor, he realized just how distant they were now.

_It had been an entire year now since she had been hit._

A year of love gone, only to be replaced by uncertainty and unbearable grief for him.

Vegeta placed the flat of his fist against his warm forehead .He should have saved her. He should have been paying more attention instead of being wrapped up in his own petty world and told her that he loved her.

They _should_ be parenting another child.

But all that was gone.

Their future had been changed dramatically and as strong as he thought himself to be he felt utterly powerless to do anything to mend it. He growled and stood, the white walls of his bedroom reflecting the sun on his bare torso. Frustration had halted him, pain distracted him, but as he through a fist into an invisible target he realized he had been caught up in his own time once again. That, outside of his hull there was an entire world going on with or without him and it wasn't going to stop and in that world, a new Bulma Briefs was coming into view. Almost as if she had been reborn, he thought as he practiced technique and balance with slow, methodical movements. Perhaps this would not be as bad after all, the prince reckoned. She still assumed her connection with Trunks despite her ignorance to her real position to the boy. Maybe he could coax her back into his arms, but what if she leaned towards someone else? Vegeta spat. Carnal jealousy was below him. She fell in love with him once and she would again he assured himself as he rotated a hand before his face as a part of his warm up. The only part he dreaded was that awkward mating dance known as 'wooing' the female.

He never was that much of a Casanova.

Vegeta stopped. He would have to be he realized and the more he thought on it the more he detested it.

It was for her though. He would do anything for her.

Sighing, he took to his bed, his mind wondering back into the timeless memories they shared, and surprisingly, they brought a hint of a smile to the prince's face. He would have them again, he knew.

He would have them again, but he would have to fight for them.


End file.
